


i'm a fire and i'll keep your brittle heart warm

by theglitterati



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bottom Bokuto Koutarou, Comfort Sex, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:41:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29072727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theglitterati/pseuds/theglitterati
Summary: “Do you want to talk about the game?”“No,” Koutarou said quickly. Sometimes it made him feel better, to talk things out, but tonight… “I just want to forget about it right now.”“Mm.” Keiji’s hand drifted to his cheek, stroking his face. “Would you like me to make you forget?”
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 12
Kudos: 169





	i'm a fire and i'll keep your brittle heart warm

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "peace" by Taylor Swift. It's just such a Bokuaka song.

Let it be known that Bokuto Koutarou no longer broke down on the court, not even when the Black Jackals lost to EJP Raijin in their last game of the season. He sucked it up, put on a smile, and forced his emotions down as far as they’d go.

Defeat never felt good, but it was especially hard to lose to a familiar face. Washio, his former teammate, had shut down more of his spikes that night than anyone else. Koutarou wasn’t alone in having history with the enemy: Komori dug plenty of his cousin’s hits, and though it was too quiet for the refs to hear, Atsumu cursed every time Suna thwarted one of his quicks. Still, as he dipped under the net to give Washio a hug, it was hard for Koutarou not to feel he’d been left behind.

Because he had been. EJP would go on to the final game against the Green Rockets, and the Black Jackals would go home.

Koutarou made it through the team meeting, though it got harder to hold himself together. Some of the other guys cried; Koutarou couldn’t, not yet. His meltdowns weren’t for the faint of heart. He hurried through his shower and headed for the door.

The night’s single blessing was that the game was in Tokyo, meaning no one would harass Koutarou for skipping the post-game pity party. It was well-known to the Jackals that when they were in the city Koutarou’s time belonged to his husband.

His husband, who waited for him at the back door of the arena with a soft smile and a protein bar. Koutarou threw himself at him, burying his face in the warmth of Keiji’s neck.

“You played well tonight,” Keiji said, matter-of-fact. “I love you very much.”

Tears pricked Koutarou’s eyes. “I love you, too.” 

He ate the protein bar while Keiji called a cab. They held hands on the ride, Keiji rubbing circles into Koutarou’s palm with his thumb. He tipped the driver well for his discretion.

In their apartment, they left the lights off. “Get into bed,” Keiji said. “I’ll be right there.” Koutarou did as he was told, shedding all but his tshirt and underwear along the way. Keiji followed with two glasses of water. He matched Koutarou’s level of undress and crawled under the covers.

Koutarou’s head went automatically to Keiji’s chest, right over his heart. He took a shuddering breath, then another.

“It’s okay,” Keiji said, encircling him in his arms. “It’s okay.”

Koutarou let himself break.

He’d learned to keep his emotions in check in public, but he’d never gotten used to them, was never prepared for what came out when the floodgates opened. He wept heavily into Keiji’s shirt, deep, gulping sobs that threatened to choke him. His body trembled, hands weak where they clutched at the fabric.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Keiji whispered.

Koutarou’s brain supplied myriad thoughts, not one of them helpful: that he was a horrible volleyball player, that it was his fault the Black Jackals lost. That Keiji would be happier with someone else. “I suck so fucking much,” was what come out of his mouth.

“You do not suck,” Keiji said firmly. “Not at all.”

Koutarou didn’t answer, just buried his face deeper and continued to cry, his throat and sinuses aching from the effort of it. It was a long time before he calmed down enough to stop gasping for air. Keiji held him through all of it. A gentle hand guided him to sit up and a glass of water was held out to him.

“Please drink some,” Keiji said. Koutarou finished the glass.

He collapsed back on his pillow, as exhausted as he had been the moment the game ended. “Sorry—”

Keiji put a finger to his lips. “You have nothing to apologize for.” He rolled toward Koutarou and threaded his fingers through his hair, down and soft after his shower. Koutarou leaned into his touch, Keiji’s short nails scratching over his scalp. At some point, the tears stopped coming.

“Do you want to talk about the game?”

“No,” Koutarou said quickly. Sometimes it made him feel better, to talk things out, but tonight… “I just want to forget about it right now.”

“Mm.” Keiji’s hand drifted to his cheek, stroking his face. “Would you like me to make you forget?”

A shiver ran through Koutarou’s body, stirring him to interest. _“Yes,”_ he groaned, surging forward to capture Keiji’s lips.

Koutarou wanted to devour him, but Keiji kept things slow, retreating when Koutarou got too eager. In high school, that behaviour got Keiji accused of teasing, but Koutarou knew now that he was setting the pace, taking control. Which, after the night he’d had, Koutarou was happy to hand over to him. Keiji always made it worth it.

He rolled them over, settling on Koutarou’s chest so they were pressed against each other from tip to toe. Koutarou loved the weight of him, the soft glide of skin and hair where their legs rubbed together. He coaxed Koutarou’s mouth open, tongue slipping inside, the rhythm of their kiss twinning with the roll of their hips.

Too soon, he broke the contact, sitting back on his ankles and taking his shirt off, motioning for Koutarou to do the same. Koutarou drank in the sight of him, his dark hair and eyes thrown into shadow by the low light, the jagged lines of his collarbones and soft roundness of his stomach. There was a tent in the front of his underwear that matched Koutarou’s own.

“You’re pretty,” Koutarou mumbled.

Keiji smiled. “You are too.” He leaned down, planting an elbow beside Koutarou’s head to support himself. “My beautiful husband.”

Koutarou flushed deeply, but Keiji was too busy mouthing at his neck and shoulders to notice. He lavished him with wet, open-mouthed kisses like Koutarou preferred, working his way down to his nipples. Koutarou gasped as he latched onto one, sucking and nipping until it was stiff and peaked, stinging with cold when Keiji switched sides.

He descended further, dragging his lips over Koutarou’s abs. “How do you want it?”

“I want _you,”_ Koutarou said. He wasn’t great at expressing himself through words at the best of times, let alone aroused and bone-tired. “Want you inside me.”

“On your knees?”

Koutarou shook his head. “Like this.” After the game, he wasn’t sure his knees could take it. Besides, he wanted to look at Keiji.

“Okay.” Keiji kissed his stomach and sat up, taking Koutarou’s underwear with him as he reached for the bedside drawer. Koutarou’s cock bobbed free, tip glistening. Keiji gently pushed his legs apart and hitched him down the bed to a better angle. He drizzled lube in one hand, tugging Koutarou’s cock a few times with the other. When the lube was warm — god, Koutarou loved him — he lifted Koutarou’s balls and pressed a slick finger to his hole.

Koutarou tipped his head up, letting out a moan. He relaxed immediately, cock twitching as Keiji’s finger pushed in further. He gave a few short thrusts to check Koutarou’s comfort, then slipped it out and added a second.

Koutarou was shocked at how rough Keiji was the first time he saw him finger himself. He was never like that with Koutarou, knew instinctively that he wouldn’t enjoy it. Instead, he focused on the sensation, stretching him carefully until he was four fingers deep. When he brushed against his prostate, it wasn’t a bang but a slow build, a gentle rub that drew a long, broken moan out of Koutarou.

“Want you,” he breathed. It was all he could say, but Keiji understood. He withdrew his fingers and tugged off his own boxers, lubing up and lining up with Koutarou’s entrance.

“Please tell me if it hurts.”

Koutarou nodded. He said it every time, and Koutarou had never once had to tell him. Keiji took good care of him.

He pressed into Koutarou with a groan, keeping his thrusts shallow and slow. This time, he _was_ teasing, and Koutarou reached out to bring him closer. Keiji gave him what he wanted, sinking into him fully and stilling, letting Koutarou feel him. When he moved, it was to dip down and kiss Koutarou breathless. “You feel incredible,” he murmured. He rolled his hips in a deliberate grind, just enough to let Koutarou feel some friction.

Nothing compared to how Koutarou felt with Keiji inside him, how he looked above him, hair mussed and mouth fallen open in pleasure. He was the only one who ever got to see Keiji come undone like this, and for that privilege, Koutarou would have given him anything.

Keiji started thrusting and Koutarou spread his legs further to let him in deeper, the undulation of Keiji’s hips like waves washing over him. His own cock, trapped between them, leaked onto both of their stomachs.

“Does it feel good?” Keiji asked.

“Mm.” It did, but— “I want more.”

Keiji nodded. “Come here.”

He dragged Koutarou further down the bed, bending his legs up over his torso. It surprised everyone, but Koutarou was the flexible one of the two of them; Keiji could barely touch his toes. The stretch felt good after the game, and the angle when Keiji pushed into him was incredible. He felt each thrust with his whole body, hips lifting off the bed every time Keiji rocked forward. 

“Kou,” Keiji said softly. “You’re crying again.”

“It’s okay,” Koutarou whispered. How to explain? He wasn’t sad anymore, but they weren’t happy tears, either.

“Do you want to stop?”

Just the opposite. “I need more.”

“Okay.” Keiji hitched one of Koutarou’s legs over his shoulder, pushing it back as he leaned into him. He wrapped one hand around his cock, the other cupping his cheek. “Fuck, you’re amazing.”

 _“Keiji,”_ Koutarou whined. “Keiji, I’m close—”

“I’ve got you.” Keiji stroked him faster, matching his thrusts, which grew more erratic as sweat beaded on his forehead. “I’ve got you, Kou.”

A few more twists of his wrist and Koutarou was coming, crying out loudly as he spent over Keiji’s hand and his own stomach. Keiji pressed as deep into him as he could, letting him clench around him as he came down.

Koutarou opened his eyes to find Keiji right there, wiping the stray tears from his cheeks. “That was—”

“Please don’t stop,” Koutarou begged. “Please, I want you to come too.” He hesitated a moment before adding, “Inside me.”

Keiji’s eyes fluttered shut. “Alright,” he said shakily. He lowered Koutarou’s leg to the bed and pulled out slowly before driving back into him. “God, Kou—”

It only took a minute. Keiji threw his head back and came, and Koutarou felt him spill inside him, cock pulsing as he filled him up. It felt nearly as good as his own orgasm had. He stroked Keiji’s arms and shoulders as he finished, collapsing on Koutarou’s chest when he was done. Koutarou held him tight.

“That was incredible,” Keiji said between breaths.

“It was.” Koutarou thought he could fall asleep there, Keiji still inside of him.

“Mmph,” Keiji mumbled. “Gotta clean up.”

He rose off of Koutarou slowly, reaching for the tissues they kept beside the bed. He used them to wipe off his cock and Koutarou’s stomach. “You want to take a shower together?”

“Can we skip it? I’m tired,” Koutarou said, but he flushed, because they both knew that wasn’t quite true. He _was_ tired, but he also liked sleeping with Keiji’s come inside him, waking up to wetness between his legs. “I’ll wash the sheets tomorrow,” he added.

“Sure.” Keiji lay down next to him, tucking himself into Koutarou’s arms. “And I’ll wash the sheets, sweetheart.” Koutarou nuzzled his nose into Keiji’s sweaty hair. It would be a frizzy mess in the morning; Koutarou couldn’t wait to see it.

“Are you still upset?” Keiji asked.

Koutarou thought about it. “Yeah, but not as much.” He was devastated about the loss, but he could see now that he wouldn’t feel that way forever. In time, he would be okay.

“Good,” Keiji said. “Get some sleep. I’ll make you something nice for breakfast tomorrow.”

“Pancakes,” Koutarou muttered, drifting off.

“Pancakes,” Keiji confirmed.

Koutarou felt better already.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at kyrstin.tumblr.com!


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